


A Belated Birthday

by irishpadfoot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishpadfoot/pseuds/irishpadfoot
Summary: Downsides to being thrown out of a twenty-third story window:- hitting the pavement? Check. Multiple broken bones, and a concussion.- having photographs of your mess-up go viral? Check. Trending #2 in the USA.- having to deal with men (and women) in white coats? Check. Didn't get dissected so, score!- having to deal with reporters? Check. Didn't flip them off (on camera), so, score!- missing birthday celebrations?





	A Belated Birthday

**From: The Guy in the Chair [0.01am]**

_happy birthday dude!!_

**From: The Guy in the Chair [0.23am]**

_I can’t believe ur asleep!_

**From: MJ [2.35am]**

_I guess it’s your birthday, then, dork. I’ll give you your present tomorrow x_

**From: MJ [2.35am]**

_well, today x_

**From: MJ [2.37am]**

_I guess you’re asleep. Night xx_

**From: The Guy in the Chair [8.43am]**

_hey where r u?_

**From: The Guy in the Chair [8.49am]**

_ur going to be late on ur birthday?_

**From: MJ [8.50am]**

_Let me guess. Missed the bus? Let me know when you’ll be here x_

**From: MJ [9.00am]**

_When you can. Don’t text and swing!_

**From: The Guy in the Chair [9.00am]**

_dude, we’re waiting for you??_

**From: MJ [9.01am]**

_Also try not to get hit by a car x_

**Missed Call From: The Guy in the Chair [9.10am]**

**Missed Call From: MJ [9.11am]**

**From: MJ [9.20am]**

_Okay, you’re officially late. Not that Harrington is surprised._

**From: MJ [9.20am]**

_That felt harsh, esp considering its your birthday. Sorry xx_

**From: MJ [9.22am]**

_Are you okay?x_

**From: MJ [9.46am]**

_If you don’t message one of us soon, we’ll contact May!_

**From: The Guy in the Chair [9.52am]**

_are you okay??? has something happened????? pls message me!!_

**From: MJ [10.34am]**

_Not that you can’t take care of yourself, but you’re not answering and I’m getting concerned. Gonna get Ned to check w May if ur okay. Don’t blame me if she spills some embarrassing secretxx_

* * *

Peter scrolled through the stream of messages on his phone, mood souring with every passing second. The nurses at the hospital hadn’t been willing to let him even look at his phone for hours after he’d been brought in, even with it buzzing almost incessantly. Luckily, with a police escort and a couple of agents from SHIELD, he’d skipped the queue, and after a few pointed comments, the doctors had managed to patch him up without removing his mask, although Peter guessed they now knew he was white and skinny, and that they could probably figure out his rough age from, like, body proportions and stuff. Although ‘Spider-Man is young white man’ probably wouldn’t be the biggest reveal in the world. That was only, like, one in six million people, or something.

His phone buzzed again. A news report.

** _Because you follow ‘Spider-Man’ in the News:_ **

_The Daily Bugle: _ ** _Spider-Man_ ** _ hospitalised after brawl with crime boss Kingpin._

Well, it wasn’t a surprise that the news had gotten out. Plenty of people had seen him get thrown out of a twenty-third-story window, and then there were the kind bystanders who called an ambulance when he’d crashed onto the pavement from about the tenth floor when his webbing snapped. Then there were the medics, and everyone at the hospital who had seen him come in with police and SHIELD escorts, who weren’t exactly subtle, even if his suit had been covered up. It was a miracle it had taken this long for the news to be released!

** _Incoming Call From: MJ_ **

Peter hit answer and held the phone against his head with his shoulder.

_“Peter?!” _MJ asked as soon as the call connected, _“Are you okay?”_

Peter thought for a moment and swallowed. The drugs were already wearing off, but his tongue still felt a bit heavy.

“I’m okay, I suppose,” he answered vaguely, trying not to worry her, “Just had a bit of trouble on patrol.”

_“You got thrown out of a window, dude!”_ Ned’s voice was slightly muffled. It took Peter a moment to realise he was on speakerphone.

“Where are you guys?” he asked nervously. He didn’t want to accidentally mention Spider-Man if they were sat in the middle of the cafeteria.

_“We’re bunking off school to come see you,”_ Ned said lightly, _“We’re in the park a block from school waiting for a bus to Manhattan.”_

Peter sighed, then realised he was chewing on his lip.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, guys,” Peter said uncertainly, “There’s a lot of news cameras outside the door, so you guys wouldn’t be able to get in without being seen, and then everyone would be harassing you guys to see if you know who I am.”

_“We could climb in the window,”_ MJ said suddenly. Peter wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking. _“You could lower some webbing, and we could climb up it. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your... webbing.”_

Peter laughed at that, then, pulling his mask down over his face, leant to look out the window. He couldn’t see much – he could only lean so far without risking pulling over the heart-monitor he was attached to – but he could definitely see some figures camping outside, cameras aimed at the window. He considered waving to them, or maybe flipping them off, but the part of him that had gone through a super-hero PR crash course with Miss Potts made him reconsider.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got some creeps aiming cameras at my window, so you’d be spotted anyway.”

He heard MJ sigh in irritation and found himself smiling slightly, in spite of himself. It was good to feel wanted.

_“Well, this isn’t exactly the birthday celebration I had planned.”_

Peter sat back, making sure he was clear of the window before pulling his mask up and replying.

“You had something planned?” Peter asked, feeling a flash of guilt. If he’d managed to beat Kingpin, or even if he’d just been more cautious and fled when the flash-bangs went off, none of this would have happened.

_“No,”_ MJ said hurriedly. Peter grinned. _“Quick, Ned, cancel the marching band!”_

Again, Peter found himself laughing, clutching his side to avoid splitting the stitching. He could only thank God for his enhanced regeneration. He’d probably end up getting out of hospital by tomorrow, assuming the doctors didn’t try and cut him up to figure out how he worked. Not that he was paranoid about men in white coats – and women, for that matter, since MJ would kill him if he even internally implied that women couldn’t be doctors, and they were just as scary when they were dissecting you. But again, not that he was paranoid, just… sensibly wary.

“But seriously, guys. I’m already getting better. I’ll probably be out of here first thing tomorrow, if I can get through the crowd of reporters.”

_“You could always climb _out_ the window,”_ MJ pointed out, _“Though if you were going to do that, you don’t need to wait to get discharged. You could just sneak out at night and go home.”_

Peter’s mind immediately came up with an alternative arrangement – more of a daydream, really – which had him sneaking out, turning up at MJ’s window at night and… well, _staying the night_ was a pretty good euphemism. Before he could get properly distracted by the idea, a knock at the door startled him.

“I’ve got to go,” Peter said hurriedly, already pulling his mask down, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

_“Okay, b–_” Ned’s goodbye became distant as MJ turned off speakerphone.

_“See you tomorrow, dork. Try not to break any more bones.”_

Peter grinned.

“I’ll try. Love you.”

He hit the button to end the call, took a breath, then called out to whoever was stood outside. The door opened and Happy walked in alongside the doctor that had been treating Peter.

“Hey, Happy. Doc,” Peter said in greeting, nodding to the two of them.

“How are you feeling, uh, Spider-Man?” Happy asked. Peter shrugged.

“Like I got thrown out of a twenty-third-story window last night.”

“I must say,” the doctor said, hiding a smile, “You’ve recuperated a lot quicker than I’d have expected. Even surviving that fall is impressive, but you’re already healing up quite nicely.”

Peter nodded.

“Yeah, uh, enhanced regeneration,” he said wryly, “I heal up really quickly.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, then nodded. Peter supposed that when you were dealing with super-heroes, doctors just got used to hearing things like that.

“So,” Peter said, glancing between the two of them, “gimme the verdict, doc. When do you think I’ll be out of here?”

* * *

On the plus side, the doctors did not, in fact, cut Peter up and figure out how he worked. On the downside, he was kept for a lot longer than he’d intended. Peter supposed it was something about the idea that “this person just got thrown out of a twenty-third story window” that made doctors less willing to release said person, even if the person was actually medically fit to be discharged. So it was already 11pm the next day before Peter was officially discharged, herded past the throng of reporters and down a corridor by SHIELD agents, plunked inside the oh-so-subtle posh black sedans with heavily tinted window that government agents seemed to use, and driven through numerous back-alleys in a convoy of identical cars. SHIELD, and Fury in particular, seemed very determined to prevent any possibility of Peter’s identity being leaked.

Speaking of Fury…

“So, Parker.”

“Mister Fury.”

There was a moment’s silence as Peter tried to decide where to look on Fury’s face. It was a question he still hadn’t properly answered, even after a number of meetings with the director. His working eye? Or did that make a thing out of his missing eye? His nose? Or was that weird? Staring at his lips was _definitely_ weird. It was one advantage of the mask, that Fury didn’t know Peter was testing out looking at different parts of his face.

“What happened with Kingpin?” Fury asked, looking at Peter with what the boy assumed was his version of disappointment. It didn’t look particularly different to his usual expression.

“His people had a lot more weapons than I’d expected,” Peter admitted, “The flash-bangs took me by surprise.”

Fury frowned.

“And the machine-gun turrets hidden in the ceiling were a nice touch.”

“Stark tech?” Fury guessed. Peter shrugged.

“I didn’t pay that much attention to the branding while they were shooting at me, but I’d guess so.”

“How the hell did Kingpin get his hands on Stark tech?”

Peter was about to answer when he realised it was probably a rhetorical question.

“I’ll ask him next time I – ”

“No,” Fury said firmly, “Keep out of Kingpin’s way.”

Peter blinked in surprise.

“We’ll put eyes on him and wait until he gets more tech. Then we can find out where he gets it from…”

“And cut off a source of heavy weaponry,” Peter finished, nodding. “Smart plan.”

“I know,” Fury said flatly, “That’s why I came up with it.”

Peter shut his mouth.

“And if by some miracle it’s not Beck’s people, the source might be able to get into contact with them.”

Peter nodded, biting his tongue from saying something else obvious.

The car stopped suddenly.

“This is your stop.”

Peter leant over to look out the window.

“This is Brooklyn,” Peter corrected, “I’m over in Queens.”

He turned back to see Fury looking at him, expression blank.

“Get out the car, Parker.”

Peter got out the car.

* * *

It wasn’t that Peter had been _planning_ on going to MJ’s house that evening, but since Fury had dropped him off in Brooklyn, and her house was pretty much on the way to his heading into Queens from that direction, it kind of ended up with Peter perched on a lamppost opposite her house anyway. He could pop in, say hi, then head back and get a stern talking-to from May about the importance of not being thrown out of windows. _Or,_ he could put the lecture off for a little longer and stay the night at MJ’s… Share a bed with his girlfriend, or get shouted at by his aunt. It was a really tough decision to make. Honestly, he was torn.

The light in MJ’s room flickered on, and Peter saw her silhouette appear at the window. Then the window slid open. The decision had really been made for him, in that case, because it would just be _ungentlemanly_ to leave a lady at her window in the cold night.

Sure, Peter had been perched outside her window for a good half an hour waiting for just that excuse, and then – because his legs were aching and he was quickly getting bored of waiting – he’d texted her to get her to come to the window, but that was all really neither here nor there, and he could just not mention that bit to May when he saw her in the morning. Or he could just head straight to school and put the lecture off for another day! That was _much_ better.


End file.
